Step One
by layhee
Summary: She can't set up the tent for the life of her, but somehow, it doesn't seem to matter. SamJanet. Part of the 'In Bed' series.


Setting up tents is never quite as easy as the instructions make it look, and it seems that this one is no exception. Between the wind, the darkness, and the not-inconsiderable amount of alcohol consumed earlier, it's a wonder they've even managed to get the thing out of its bag, let alone half-built.

Frowning, Sam tries again to stuff the pole through its loop. The metal catches at the fabric and refuses to budge, and she pushes at it, glowering. She hears a laugh from nearby and looks up, finding Janet holding a successfully-threaded pole. Opening her mouth to demand just how in hell she'd managed to do that, she ends up laughing too. Why she can't set this tent up is beyond her. Offworld, she's never this clumsy.

Well, she shouldn't say _never. _There were always those occasional times when the only appropriate word was _whoops_, but, really. They were few and far between.

This is just embarrassing.

And at sometime past midnight, after two—or three or four—beers, this is just hilarious.

She can't set up a tent.

What a failure.

Still laughing, she feels her legs fold and she sits down with a thump onto the arm of an unfortunately-placed beach chair. It tips sideways and she tips with it, deposited ungracefully onto the sandy ground. Janet takes her un-threaded pole from her hand, crouching down in front of her. "Sam?" she questions around a giggle. "You okay?"

Sam shakes her head hopelessly, shaking with laughter. "Can't do it," she says. "You try." She makes half an attempt at muttering darkly about how wonderfully talented Janet seems to be at threading _tent_ _poles_ of all things, but only ends up laughing harder.

"Why they send _you_ offworld is beyond me," Janet huffs, probably joking.

"Clearly," Sam says, stumbling to her feet and pulling the tent cover from its pouch, "you'd be a much better choice." She trips over a loose buckle and barely avoids crashing into the ground. "Whoops," she giggles.

Half-rolling her eyes and half-snorting with laughter, Janet nods. "Clearly."

At last, all the poles threaded and the cover spread out, they manage to get the thing upright. It bends in the wind, threatening to blow away until they can drive the pegs into the soft dirt. Sam grins and takes a step back, dusting off her hands while Janet hammers away at the last peg.

"Oh, thank you very much for your help," Janet mutters sarcastically as she straightens and comes to stand next to Sam. Sam nudges her with her shoulder and the doctor grins. "Okay, okay," she admits, "So you weren't _completely_ useless…"

"Thank you," Sam says brightly, and ducks into the tent, just barely remembering to grab their suitcase from outside the flap.

Inside, it's even darker than outside. Sam fumbles for the zipper on the bag and, finding it, gropes about for the flashlight. She flicks it on just as Janet comes in through the door.

"Jesus, Sam!" she cries, holding a hand up to shield her eyes. "Careful with that thing."

Giggling a bit sheepishly, Sam sets the flashlight aside, facing the tent wall. "Sorry," she offers. "Just wanted to make sure it still worked." Why it might not have was beside the point.

Janet, shaking her head slightly, zips the flap open for a moment to pull the sleeping bag and mattress inside. Closing it behind her, she tosses the mattress toward Sam, who's looking the other way. It hits the side of her head and she topples over with a surprised cry, landing on her side and laughing. Janet leans over to give her a slight shove. "It's a mattress, Sam," she says as, still lying on the ground, the major fumbles with the bundle. "You inflate it, not cuddle it."

With one flip-flop covered foot, Sam aims a kick at Janet's leg. "Shut it, you," she bickers good-naturedly. "You who only had three beers."

"Me who is significantly smaller than you?" the doctor points out, hauling the sleeping bag from its sack.

Sam makes a vague noise of dismissal but doesn't press the point. Now that she's figured out how to open the clasp on the mattress and unrolled it, she's having a time of getting the valve open. Wonderful, she thinks. First the tent, now the mattress. Today is either one of those days where nothing ever goes right, or she need serious lessons in dealing with normal camping gear in a nine-point-eight-one meter per second squared gravity environment.

She sits back on her heels for a moment, forgetting the mattress and its stupid inoperable valve. Would this be easier in a nine-point-zero environment? What about ten-point-two? Or, heck, why not forty-two? It is, after all, the answer.

But what is the question?

The question, she tells herself, shaking her head slightly as she remembers the sorrowfully uninflated mattress in her hands, is why she listens to Teal'c when he gets started on Douglas Adams.

There's a sigh behind her and Janet takes the thing from her. "Give me that," she says, the irritation in her voice far from serious. "Next time you have to be of any use, you stop at six, okay?"

Agreeably, with no intention of abiding by or even remembering the promise, she nods. "Okay."

Easily, Janet opens the valve and the mattress sucks in air with a hiss. Sam scuttles out of the way as she lays it on the ground, taking up most of the room in the tent. Crawling over to the other side, she helps spread the large sleeping back atop it, then flops forward. The mattress squeaks a protest, as does Janet.

"Sam!" she cries, giving her a push sideways. "It's not inflated yet!"

"Oh," Sam giggles, rolling off. "Sorry."

"Jesus," Janet mutters.

Finally, they deem the mattress puffed up enough and close the valve, then dig out their pyjamas and flick off the flashlight to get changed. Kicking off her flip flops and tossing them aside, Sam slips out of her jeans and into sleep shorts, then tugs her shirt over her head and reaches a hand back to unclasp her bra. She fumbles, and reaches the other to help, without success. Janet, meanwhile, has finished and is busy brushing sand off the sleeping bag.

"Um," says Sam. "Janet? A little help here…"

Janet, peering into the darkness, somehow manages to see Sam's predicament and chuckles, crawling over. "Here," she says. Sam smiles, letting her hands drop to her sides, as Janet's cool fingers go to her back. She feels the clasp drop away and slips the garment off her arms.

Janet's hand presses flat against her skin and Sam sits still, topless, with her sleep shirt on her lap before her. A moment later, the hand slides upward and is joined by the other. They glide over her shoulders, feeling the swell of her collarbone and the muscles in her neck. Then, moving back down, they slip beneath her arms and follow her sides to the midpoint of her ribs. There, they wrap forward, around the curve of her chest, and meet in the centre, just under her breasts. Sam feels Janet's head lean against the hollow between her shoulder blades, warm breath washing gently over her and hair tickling slightly.

"Janet?" Sam questions softly.

"Sh," says Janet.

The loud, raucous moment of thirty seconds ago is all but gone. Suddenly, the world's gotten quiet and small and surprisingly intimate. Sam turns her head to the side, feeling Janet's hair whisper over her cheek. She touches Janet's hands, interlocked across her chest.

"Hey," she murmurs. "You okay?"

Janet nods against her. "Just…" she breathes. "Sh…"

Sam complies. The air inside the tent is cool, chilly on her bare skin, but the warmth of Janet's arms around her, her breath on her back, and her body pressed against hers are more than enough to compensate. Lights from outside filter though the synthetic fabric of the tent, casting them in faint grey tones. It's peaceful, kneeling like this with Janet at her back, and Sam lets herself relax into it.

Gradually, Janet eases away and leaves a void that Sam moves quickly to fill, pulling on her shirt and scrambling into the large sleeping bag. Janet slides in next to her and shimmies to bury herself up to her chin. Sam props herself on one arm and looks over at the brunette.

"What was that?" she questions. "Just now."

Janet gives what looks like a shrug and Sam eyes her. The doctor makes no indication that she's going to explain, so Sam eases herself down to the mattress, lying on her side and watching her friend's face. She's shadowed, mostly, and Sam's not sure if her eyes are open. Impulsively, she reaches across the small gap between them and touches Janet's arm.

It's a request, and Janet understands it.

Obligingly, she sits up and Sam follows. The explorer becomes the explored as Sam's hands travel over the soft fabric of her tank top, skimming the patches of bare skin at the shoulder and waist. Then, subtly, her fingers slip beneath the hem of the shirt.

They follow the gentle curve of her sides, up over her ribs, and trace her spine up to her neck. Janet raises her arms and Sam lifts the shirt away. The barrier gone, she follows her spine back down, to the small of her back, and then travels diagonally up, over her stomach and ending at her chest. There she slows, not quite stopping, and takes the next natural step.

Her fingers rise the final inch and glide over the swell of her breasts. She holds them gently, feeling the soft weight, then trails her fingers upward to her throat. Janet's head tilts back, leaning on Sam's shoulder, and Sam traces a whisper of a line along her neck to her chin. She brushes her mouth then moves back down, returning a moment to her breasts, flitting over the nipples and drawing a sigh.

She moves lower, holding Janet about the stomach, and carefully eases them down until they're lying, back to front. She pulls the sleeping bag up, covering them, and tucks her arms comfortably around Janet's chest. Janet sighs again and wriggles lazily, snuggling back into Sam's body. Sam smiles and presses her lips briefly against the base of her neck, then tucks her head down and closes her eyes.

In the morning, they may pretend to wonder why they're spooned together, or why Janet's shirt is discarded on the ground, but silently they'll both know: tonight is the first step in a long series of moments. They may be drunk and they may be tired, but this is real and this is natural and this is right. They both feel it. Like setting up a tent, getting things right is never quite as easy as the instructions make it look, but they're going to work together until they get it done.


End file.
